“You’re going to need this cell soon. You’re going to need me out. When you kill me so you can use it for one of the slaves it was built for, Sarah’s going to figure out where your money really comes from.”

“What are you talking about?” Something in the question implies he knows something isn’t right. My suspicions were true, and valuable.

“If your daddy didn’t tell you, why should I?”

“I came down here as a courtesy.” He pushes away from the wall. “I’m leaving for the same reason.”

He can’t leave. Not yet. Not without promising I can see Sarah.

“Your daddy was easing you in.”

He stops. I have him.

“Maybe he told you there was a hollowing here and there. Could have even shown you these cells and told you they were for unmanageable women way back in the day. Then he gauged your reaction. I bet he thought you were too soft to hear how recently they’d been used.”

“The only women who’ve disappeared are because of you.”

“The only Colonia women.”

He tries to keep his expression neutral, but I see the calculations. He’s seen enough since I killed his father, but not enough to know the full truth.

“You don’t know.” I tsk and shake my head in disappointment. “Poor little prince.”

“If you have something to say, say it.”

“You have a boat full of little girls already on the water.”

Maybe he suspected, because he doesn’t deny it right away. He doesn’t look at me as if I’ve lost my mind in here.

He looks away.

Very few Colonia knew about their boats. When Nico found out how few were aware of the trafficking, he didn’t believe it himself. He’d thought it was a mass delusion in full knowledge of the facts. Then we’d thought we were mistaken. Maybe Oria’s story had led us to think their degeneracy expanded to literal shipments of humans. Maybe we were too quick to believe whatever we could imagine. But it was as bad as we’d feared, and we hadn’t found out the details until too recently to do anything about it

So I can’t blame him for his immediate reaction as much as the one after.

“Don’t try and talk nonsense. There is no boat.” Massimo’s tone is a weave of authority, resolve, and a single thread of shame. I’m sure he means it, but he can’t stop what his father put into motion.

“It’s landing at Red Hook. Soon.”

His eyes widen. I’ve shaken his shit and dumped it on the dinner table.

“When, then?”

“Secure terminal. We would have blown it up, but we haven’t been able to touch it. And then… well, here I am.”

“When?!”

I have him. Fuck this little shit—I have him by his greatest weakness. His humanity.

“Bring me my wife. I’ll tell her the name of the boat and when it gets in. You can find out how many children are starving in the container for yourself.”